!@#$!

It is Weigh-In Wednesday #15. Someone is messing with my emotions. Let me explain...

Yesterday was the first day back to the gym because I have been sick for a couple of weeks. The last time I had gone was on April 2nd. No exercise = no weight loss. I know this, no big deal. On top of that, my friends and I celebrated a birthay on Saturday. This party included pizza, hot wings, and gooey caramely cinnamon buns compliments of Costco. Bad food = no weight loss and/or potential weight gain. I know this.

Bear with me here, this is going to be a long story.

For the past week, I have been consuming less calories per day by skipping breakfast. Not because I condone skipping meals, but I am trying to eat only when I am hungry, and I just am not hungry in the mornings. On top of that, I have been sick and it was super painful to swallow.

I read an article on AOL about a man that lost 50 pounds in 18 months by riding a bicycle and exercising portion control. My biggest problem with food is portion control. So yesterday, after I profusely sweat it out at the gym, I ate dinner. I spooned a portion of spaghetti on my plate that was half the amount I normally would've eaten. I ate the spaghetti and two servings of ceasar salad. An hour after dinner I was getting hunger pains. But I stayed strong and chose not to eat anything else because I knew the next day was my official weigh-in day.

I stayed up until 11:00 to watch The Biggest Loser. I was starving the entire time. I went to bed hungry. I had a hard time falling asleep because I was excited about my weigh-in today. I was expecting a loss of 3-4 pounds. I woke up at 4:00 am and again at 5:00 am. Still hungry both times. Finally, at 6:00 am my alarm goes off. I go into the bathroom, strip down and hop on the scale. I had such a restless sleep that I was super groggy by the time I got on the scale. I stared down at my scale and read the number. It didn't make sense and I totally forgot what I was doing. I rubbed my eyes and cleared my head of the last remnants of sleep. I looked down again. I stared at the number: 195.6 pounds.

No. Way.

No. Fucking. Way.

I did not lose 13 pounds in one week. There is just no way. I have a digital scale that requires you to tap on the scale and wait for it to read 0.00 lbs before hopping on. I step off, wait for the scale to turn off, tap on it, 0.00 shows up, then I hop back on. 195.6 pounds again. It doesn't make sense, so I weigh again. This time, I am at 193.8 pounds. That's not right.

Hop off, scale turns off, tap it, 0.00, get back on. 193.8 pounds.

I don't believe it! Literally do not believe what I am seeing. I try another tactic. I tap on the scale and wait for it to turn to 0.00 pounds. Then I crouch down and press into it with both hands. It said 31.8 pounds. Ok, my scale is good to go. So I again hop off, scale turns off, I tap it, 0.00, and get back on.195.6.

One more time: step down, scale off, tap, 0.00, step on. 193.8 pounds.

My heart races. Could it be? Could my sacrifices of the day before really have been worth it? Did I really just break the 200 mark?

I ran over to a sleeping John and asked him to weigh himself. After what seemed like an hour he says, "According to your scale, I have lost 4 pounds." That is reasonable right? My scale must be accurate. I decide to weigh myself again. By this point, I have brushed my teeth, washed my face and started putting my makeup on. Generally, doing my morning routine could add up to a pound from my initial weigh-in. Fully clothed, I get back on the scale. 206.6.

My heart sank. I knew it. I knew 13 pounds wasn't right, but the scale had me fooled. So now, I didn't want to believe the scale even though I new it was being more accurate. I wanted that "1" in the beginnig of my weight. So I stripped back down and got on the scale. This time it read 200.6 pounds. I wanted to cry. Why was this happening to me?! I weighed myself two more times, same number: 200.6 pounds.

At this point, my daughter had woken up and was watching her morning cartoons. I recruited her to be weighed. She was 55 pounds. This was accurate. I weigh her twice. Same number.

My turn. I step on again. 203.6 pounds.

Weigh again. 203.6 pounds.

I gave up. I decided to mark down what I believed to be the most accurate measurement: 206.6 pounds.

For those of you that struggle with your weight, I think you can feel my pain. I was on the verge of tears. Why was this happening to me and not to Bella or John - neither of them even care about their weight! I'm sorry for the overly described morning I had, but this was really traumatic for me. Breaking through that 200 mark is a huge milestone and I feel like I just got cheated out of it.

Current Weight: 206.6 pounds.
Reason for Weight-Loss: My bridesmaid dress came in this week. I am picking it up today and I know it won't fit yet. I am positive that I need to lose just 15 pounds to fit in that dress by June 25th. I can do this.